Misty's Book of Challenges
by mystical pine forest
Summary: All the one-shots I have written for various challenges!
1. Do You Remember?

Do you remember?

Do you remember the days when you and Prim would laugh, loud and clear, at suppertime?

When Prim would have trouble falling asleep, and you'd stroke her beautiful blonde hair and sing her the valley song?

When your father passed, and your mother as good as dead, and you took over, and made sure that little Prim stayed fed and healthy?

When Peeta threw you those loaves, burnt and black, and perfectly golden on the inside, and you and your mother and Prim feasted that night?

When the primroses bloomed, and you'd point them out to Prim, and she'd laugh, and pick them to bring back to your mother?

When you tried to drown Buttercup, poor cat, and Prim rushed in, insisting that he's "useful, and anyways, he's a cutie."?

When Effie called those words, those dreadful two words, and you called out two equally dreadful ones?

When you and the young one - Rue - foiled the Careers' plans, and you held her hand, and sang as she died?

When the sweet announcement rang from Claudius Templesmith's lips, declaring you and Peeta victors?

When President Snow read the card, and you realized what it meant? That you'd go back in?

When Effie called Haymitch's name, and Peeta called those words? Vowed to keep you safe?

When Finnick offered you fresh, white sugar cubes, meant for the horses, and you declined?

When you awoke in Thirteen, and Gale told you the news? That Twelve no longer existed?

When Prim reached out and grabbed the bomb parachute, and you never saw her again?

When you swiveled to face Coin, and let the arrow fly, letting Snow live?

When you and Peeta married, vowing to love each other forever, till death did you part?

When Barley and Lily were born, Lily the spitting image of Prim, and Barley exactly like Peeta?

When your story finally came to an end, and a mockingjay flew away, up to the heavens?

Do you remember?


	2. And Then There Was One

**I do not own anything except the OC's Soman, Ariya, and Jaylin. Taylor Swift owns her song "Safe and Sound" and Suzanne Collins owns THG.**

Soman Sutherland closes his eyes, but sleep does not come. Visions of Kristi, of Jamison, of their deaths, imprinted on the back of his eyelids, keep Soman awake. The stocky Seam boy sits up. It's no use- sleep will not come.

The fifteen-year-old yawns. It's late- the moon is high in the sky. Soman reaches his tanned arms high above his head, holding the position for a couple seconds before letting go.

Then he hears it. The rustle of the leaves, the crunch of boots against gravel. The Seam boy instinctively reaches for his weapon- a long-bladed, heavy sword.

The sound of footsteps grows nearer and nearer until- swish- a figure steps out of the shadow, watching Soman like a hawk. The boy pulls out his sword, ready to strike.

"Hello, Soman," the figure says. Soman curses under his breath. Jaylin Twist, the only remaining Career. He had hoped it'd be Ariya, the girl his age from Four.

"Hello, Jaylin," Soman replies.

Jaylin smiles a bloodthirsty, evil smile. Soman has accepted his fate- the older girl will kill him easily.

Soman makes the first move, jabbing at Jaylin's stomach, but Jaylin parries. She thrusts her sword forward, causing Soman to jump backwards.

"Scared of a girl, are we?" Jaylin mocks the younger boy.

Enraged, Soman swings his sword. He misses the girl's heart- where he'd been aiming- but he does hit her leg. Jaylin yelps, but quickly resumes her cool façade. She slashes, hitting Soman's stomach. The dark red, warm blood spurts from the wound, and Soman struggles not to scream. Holding his stomach in one hand, his sword in the other, Soman jabs forward. Jaylin jumps back, swinging her own sword. This time, it connects with Soman's chest. Screaming, the Seam boy falls to the ground, and Jaylin smiles. She's won the battle.

Laying on his back on the hard ground, Soman lifts his eyes to the sky. He wants his last sight to be the stars.

Smiling, Soman closes his eyes. He's satisfied. Jaylin, revealing a short-bladed knife, strides over to where Soman lay. She slits his throat, and the young Seam boy falls into an eternal sleep.

The cannon booms, and then there were two.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

 ** _BOOM_**.

Ariya Fulner jolts awake. Who could that have been? Soman, the boy her age from Twelve, or the bloodthirsty Jaylin from Two? The fifteen-year-old smiles- either way, she's one step closer to home.

Home. Ariya's face falls as the thought of home enters her tired mind. The salty ocean, the warm, sandy beaches, and...

Rylie. Ariya looks down at her wrist, where the beaded bracelet lay. Little Rylie, aged only seven, had given Ariya the token of home. Ariya had hugged the child, murmuring the words to a song they both knew.

"Just close your eyes, the sun is going down. You'll be all right, no one can hurt you now. Come morning light, you and I'll be safe and sound."

The girl feels a drop on her hand- a warm, wet teardrop. She looks down at the bracelet and another tear slides down her face. Landing on her thigh, the tear dissolves into Ariya's pant leg.

 _I must be brave. For Rylie,_ Ariya stands, wiping a tear away.

A crackle of leaves alerts Ariya that someone's nearby. Whipping around, Ariya places a hand on her spear, which was leaning against a nearby tree. Picking it up, Ariya takes a step back.

"Jaylin,"

"Ariya," the girls greet each other.

Jaylin smiles. Leaping forward, she thrusts her sword. Ariya dodges.

Ariya and Jaylin circle each other until Ariya takes a deep breath. Lobbing her spear at Jaylin, Ariya drops her hands to her side.

They don't stay there for long, for the girl's spear misses.

Jaylin laughs. "Pathetic." Ariya closes her eyes. She's given up.

 _I love you, Rylie._

The cannon booms, and then there was one.

 **Authors' Note: Hey guys! This is a one shot following the final three tributes in the 72nd Hunger Games. This is by no means canon.**

 **This was written using the Caesar's Palace prompts Gold, Silver, and Bronze.**


	3. Things Haymitch Loves

A/N: For Bookworm. Happy Halloween! Enjoy!

I. Fireflies

A three-year-old Haymitch Abernathy toddles around the Meadow, happy and carefree. He bounds up to his sister on his short, stubby toddler legs and points at a spot in the distance.

"See that, Amelie? See the light?"

The girl sighs. At seven years old, Amelie was often bothered by her brother. Of course, he was adorable sometimes, but usually he was just obnoxious.

"Yes, I see it, Mitchy. Go play with Pa, please- Ma and I want to be alone."

"But Amelie-"

"Mitchy, your sister's right," his mother breaks in. "Go find Pa."

"Yes, Ma." Haymitch mumbles, turning around slowly and slumping off toward his father.

Haymitch reaches his father, who was sitting with another Seam man, chatting. Christopher Abernathy turns his head to see his son, then notices his glum expression.

"What's up, pal? Why so glum?"

"Ma and Amelie don't want to play with the moving lights," Haymitch whines.

His father questions, "What, the fireflies?"

"What's a firefly?" Haymitch asks. Christopher pulls Haymitch into his lap, places him on his knee, and as he begins to bounce his son up and down, he says,

"Fireflies are little beings that buzz around like flies, and they have little lights on their undersides,"

Haymitch nods, clearly entertained by his father's "story". He hops off of Christopher's lap.

"I'm going to go catch me a pet firefly," Haymitch announces and toddles off toward the far side of the Meadow, where the fireflies buzz. His father and the other Seam man chuckle, and they continue their conversation.

II: Chocolate

Haymitch and his father wander down the streets of District Twelve towards Mr. Donner's candy shop. The little boy clutches a copper coin and a bunched-up paper in his left hand, his father's hand in his right.

Tugging on his father's hand, Haymitch points at the rapidly approaching candy shop, saying,

"Look, Papa, the candy shop! Can I buy me some chocolate? Can I? Can I?"

Christopher Abernathy laughs. "Yes, son, if that's what you'd like to buy."

Haymitch nods, a huge grin spreading across his face. The young boy definitely had a sweet tooth- any and all candy drew him in, especially chocolate.

Haymitch lets go of his father's hand, running toward the sweet-shop door. Christopher chuckles, shakes his head, and runs after his young son.

The candy shop door opens, and Haymitch's eyes widen. His childish mind sees a heavenly wonderland where other, more mature eyes see a small, understocked sweet shop.

Scott Donner looks up from his work frosting sugar cookies.

"Ah, young Mr. Abernathy! Welcome to candyland!" he exclaims. "How may I help you today?"

"How much is this?" Haymitch asks, holding up a large brick of dark chocolate.

"Three pieces," is the response.

"Oh, I only have two and a half," Haymitch says dejectedly.

"Tell you what," Mr. Donner says, placing a hand on Haymitch's shoulder. "For you, it's two and a half."

"Really? Thank you, Mr. Donner!"

"Call me Scott," laughs Mr. Donner.

Handing Scott the bill and coin, Haymitch takes the candy brick and waves goodbye. The boy opens the door and runs off to find his father.

III. Maysilee Donner

What could have been?

These are Haymitch's thoughts as he trudges away from Maysilee's blood-stained body, depressed and lonely. What could have been if she hadn't broken the alliance? If he had kept her there, and the two had stayed together? Would they had been able to fight off the birds, to survive?

Haymitch stops and grips his sword a bit tighter. Looking up at the sky, he blinks hard, trying not to cry. The cameras are almost certainly on him right now, and he needs to stay strong for his family, his friends, his District.

His family. Amelie, Ma, Pa... The sixteen-year-old bites his lip as the thought of home enters his mind.

His girlfriend, too. She would almost certainly be furious if she knew about Haymitch's feelings for Maysilee- another reason to hold back the tears.

Haymitch shakes his head. He needs to move on. Maysilee is gone now- dead. He takes a deep breath and trudges away from the body.


	4. Stand By You

**_Even if we're breaking down, we can find a way to break through._**

* * *

She stands on her pedestal, searching the ring of tributes to find her District partner and ally, Erik. Her eyes meet his, he gestures towards the Cornucopia, and she nods. They simultaneously turn back to face the large silver horn, full to the brim with knives, swords, bows, backpacks. Eadlyn starts to hyperventilate, smoothing her dark brown ponytail and closing her hazel eyes.

The gong sounds, but she doesn't move. Erik, racing along with the other tributes to the Cornucopia, shoots a glance over his shoulder to Eadlyn. She squeezes her eyes shut.

He sighs, still running for his life. _Of course she did._ Entering the horn, he sweeps a few knives into the nearest backpack and slings a quiver of arrows and a bow over his shoulder. Picking up the red bag full of knives and supplies, he flees in her direction.

"Come on, Eady! We've got to get out of here!" She flinches at his touch, but opens her eyes and accepts the small knife he holds out to her. Gripping it tightly, she steps off her pedestal without a word.

"Are you okay?"

Eadlyn nods. Erik grasps her hand and pulls her away, not letting go. She holds on for dear life, and together they run from the carnage of the Bloodbath.

 **oOo**

They run until they can't anymore, and then they walk until their lungs are on fire and legs feel like they'll fall off. Breathing heavily still, Eadlyn stumbles to a stop, still holding Erik's hand tight. He follows suit, placing his hands on his knees and bending over slightly.

"Hey, we made it out," he whispers.

"Thanks for saving me," she breathes. She walks in that graceful, almost regal way of hers to a fallen tree and perches on its slanted trunk.

"Not a problem. After all, that's what allies are for, right?"

They both know they're much more than allies.

* * *

 ** _Even if we can't find heaven, I'll walk through Hell with you._**

* * *

Erik sits next to her on the fallen tree. Shrugging the bag off his shoulder, he unzips it and hands Eadlyn another knife, one larger than the small pocket knife he'd given her at the very beginning of the Games. With a slightly serrated blade and a handle just the right length, it's a perfect fit for her.

As he pulls two more knives from the bag, he spots the unmistakable ridge of a bottle's cap. He digs through the contents of his treasure and pulls a clear orange bottle half full of dirty water from the bag.

"Why would they give us _dirty_ water?" she wonders.

"No one knows," Erik replies absentmindedly as he searches his backpack. "There'd better be some purification tablets in here. That's our only bottle."

A twig snaps.

Eadlyn looks up, and Erik places a hand on hers. His other hand flies to her mouth, one finger over her lips, barely touching. _Shhh._ She sweeps up her knives, he his bow, and together they stand, careful not to make noise. As Erik notches an arrow, a small figure moves from behind a nearby bush.

Erik releases his arrow and lowers his bow. She grips her knife tightly.

First, a yelp, then a thump and finally a cannon boom. He covers his mouth and looks at Eadlyn.

"What was _that_?" she whispers.

No reply comes. Slowly, Erik takes a step toward the small bush the figure had come from. Eadlyn follows, one hand light on his arm. He pulls back a branch, revealing the body of a small, dark-skinned girl with an arrow sticking out of her.

His eyes widen. "I killed a little kid. I killed a girl. Oh my god, what is wrong with me?"

"There's nothing wrong with you. It was an accident. We have to kill to survive here anyway," she says softly.

"No. I swear, Eadlyn. There's gotta be something wrong! How can you say that? She can't be more than thirteen."

"Erik, trust me. You'll see this kid's face in the sky tonight. I can already tell that she's an Eleven, from her coloring. She'll be one of the last ones. I want you to grieve then, but afterwards, you have to forget. Do you hear me, Erik?"

"I hear you, Eadlyn, but I cannot comprehend what you are saying! Let me grieve! I killed a child, and you are saying to forget?"

"I am telling you, you need to forget. She'll plague you, haunt you, the whole Games, otherwise. She'll make you too guilty to kill. I'm not saying death is good, Erik! I'm saying that to get out of here, you'll have to experience at least one more death, and it'll probably be my own." She takes a deep breath. "Okay, Erik. Do you get it now?"

"Yeah. I guess so. I still feel terribly guilty, though."

"That is very understandable."

They're silent for a few minutes, staring at the body of the little girl, before Erik speaks.

"We should at least clear out, you know. The hovercraft will be here soon."

She nods. They parade in a slow procession away from the body, pick up their bags and leave.

 **oOo**

As they walk, Eadlyn feels the common urge.

"Nature's calling," she tells Erik, as she stalks off to a patch of pines, nearby but not overly close.

 _Now is my chance,_ he thinks. He slips the third and final knife he got from the Cornucopia out of his bag and holds it up to his chest.

"Mom, Dad, I'm sorry. I can't do it anymore. I love you and I'll miss you. And Eady, I know you don't know this and you probably don't care, but I love you. I love you so much and I wish I could be with you forever," he whispers, careful not to let Eadlyn hear. She can't know, not yet.

He takes a deep breath, one two in, one two out, and stabs the knife into his chest.

 ** _Love, you're not alone, 'cause I'm gonna stand by you._**

He's not quite dead when Eadlyn returns, still embarrassed because there was surely a camera on her that whole time and who wants to be filmed while they excrete their waste?

She doesn't see him there at first, since he'd fallen behind a log instead of out in the open.

"Erik?" she calls, worried. Did the Careers find him? No, they'd have taken his stuff, and there it all was, out in the open. It all looks strangely… peaceful to Eadlyn.

A moan escapes from his mouth, and Eadlyn hears it. She whirls around, fearing the worst.

There, draped over a bed of leaves, twigs and grass, lays her ally and District partner, a bloody knife sticking out of his chest and eyes drooping closed.

Her hand flies to her mouth and she runs to his side, dropping to her knees and trying to revive him.

"No, Erik. Why would you ever do this?" Then she remembers, remembers the little girl in the bushes. "Oh my god, Erik, did you really?"

She pulls her own knife from her jacket pocket. "Erik Koskinen, I love you. I know we haven't known each other long, probably only a few weeks, but I love you. I would die to be with you. And that's what I have to do now." By this point in time, she is openly weeping.

Eadlyn takes a deep breath. His cannon goes off, and her hand shakes. She falters, but only for a minute. As she stabs herself in the heart, and as everything goes black, she smiles.

 _I love you, Erik. There's no one else I would die for, and if you die, I do too. I'll see you soon. I swear it, once I meet you… wherever we go, I will be your one and only. We'll apologize to the little girl you shot, we'll dance gaily around and around. We'll never be hungry. We'll love each other forever._

 ** _BOOM._**

* * *

 _Written for Caesar's Palace challenge; OTP Games. Based on the song "Stand By You", written by Rachel Platten. Some lyrics are taken from said song. All rights belong to their owners._


	5. traitors

**inspired by winter's cry and written for the caesar's palace summer olympics challenge**

* * *

 _we're_ not  supposed to love  
 **[** _supposedly_ **]  
** _our_ lives are **endlessly devoted  
** to the Capitol  
the President _our_ only **lover  
** with _his_ sweet scent  
 **[** _too sweet_ **]  
** and _his_ **whitewhitewhite** _roses  
_ that always _stink_ slightly of  blood

* * *

 _we're_ not  supposed to have fun  
 **[** _supposedly_ **]  
** all day _we_ **serve** _you  
_ and _you_ mindlessly **order** _us_ around  
 **[** _fetch my_ _food &water&clothes&alcohol_ **]  
** _we_ watch _your_ **pets  
** _we_ watch _your_ **children  
** **[** _and we watch them die a week later_ **]**

* * *

 **traitors  
** that's all _we_ are  
with _our_ redred outfits and simple hairstyles  
and _our_ **darkemptybare** _mouths  
_ and _our_ social class  
 **[** _equal to that of dirt_ **]  
** because in the **nation's** **eyes  
** _that's_ what _we_ are  
 **[** _maybe they're right_ **]**

* * *

 **[** _was it worth it?_ **]  
** to run off, **escape  
** and almost make it  
 **[** _but almost isn't good enough, not here_ **]  
** _of course_  
because _even though  
_ we aren't **supposed** to **love  
** we aren't **supposed** to _have_ _fun  
_ we aren't even **supposed** to  talk  
that _feeling_ of _freedom  
_ that _we_ had  
that one **time** that _we_ were  
 _actually  
_ **free  
** **[** _but not quite, because who is, here_ **]  
** _it made it all worth it_

* * *

 **first time writing freeverse! reviews are always appreciated :)**


	6. she's not mad

she's not mad,  
not in the way they think  
she has a  
special way of  
seeing the world and  
she  
doesn't  
mind.

she's angry.  
that's what she really is  
they took her  
everything,  
they took her  
childhood and her  
innocence and her  
freedom and her  
finnick.

finnick.  
 _her_ finnick.  
they took  
him  
and with him  
they took  
a part of her heart.

there's a gaping hole  
where his love belongs  
a bloody gash in  
her heart because  
it's broken,  
not her.

and she has  
absolutely nothing,  
nothing at all.  
no one to love  
no one to love her  
and no one who  
cares.

she's not mad  
she's angry at them all  
but there's a light  
at the end  
of the  
tunnel  
a blazing star  
illuminating her life

and so she keeps her head  
up  
even through the darkness and  
forges a path  
even through the hardships  
and

she

keeps

going.

* * *

 **odesta freeverse written for caesar's palace "summer olympics" challenge. wc: 150 on the dot. thanks to zero and iris for critiques &hearts**


End file.
